WeTried Translations

Translator: Joy

Editor: Joy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Damned Transmigration

Chapter 17

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The Price of a Fist

“I have no intention of selling the Fist of the Rending Cloud.”

Haryeong sighed under her breath, and Elena swallowed hard.

“Why not?” Bakerd’s face twisted, his displeasure plain.

A faint, smoke-like aura began to rise from him, cutting through the mana in the air as it pressed down on Yuri. Goosebumps prickled his arms as his breath caught, as if an invisible hand were clutching his throat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Elena’s expression darkened.

Sparks crackled in the air around her as she stepped forward, shielding Yuri with a glare sharp enough to cut.

“Intimidating my friend just because a deal didn’t go your way?”

“Sir Bakerd, surely you’re not planning to stir trouble,” Haryeong said flatly, slipping in front of Elena with a dagger drawn. Her eyes glinted coldly.

“This is Le Seyun, under the management of the Ascard Family. Surely you’re not planning to stir trouble with the Ascards, hiding behind the power of a 6th-Circle? And let’s not forget that Lady Elena is a prospective disciple of Heavenly Thunder, Orca Dersia.”

“Hmph…” Bakerd grimaced.

At that, the pressure dissolved, the suffocating weight vanishing as quickly as it had come.

“It seems I let my emotions carry me away. Please understand, I simply desire the Fist of the Rending Cloud more than I can contain.”

‘A 6th-Circle?’

Yuri rubbed his arms, impressed despite himself. So this was Bakerd, the once low-level guard from Sairan, thirty years later.

“Even so, shouldn’t this be discussed with Marigold?” Bakerd said.

“No.”

Yuri met his gaze evenly.

“I was the one who needed the Fist of the Rending Cloud, so I was the one who bid. If you want it, you’ll have to speak with me.”

Bakerd’s brows drew together.

“And who are you?”

“My name is Yuri.”

“Alright then, Yuri. From the looks of it… you plan to begin your martial path with the Fist of the Rending Cloud?”

“Yes.”

Bakerd studied him closely, beard twitching.

‘The frame is sound. Eyes clear, without corruption. Aside from lacking internal energy, he has the makings of a fighter.’

“Why the fist, then? The path of a martial artist is brutal. Most cripple themselves before reaching the 4th Circle, or they abandon it entirely for a weapon.”

“That isn’t true for everyone. Look at yourself, Sir Bakerd.”

“My case was necessity. Your circumstances are not the same. For 1.5 billion sel, you could acquire a sword style on par with a master’s technique.”

“I prefer the fist.” Yuri shook his head firmly.

Bakerd’s beard twitched again. “Do you even know what kind of fist technique the Fist of the Rending Cloud is?”

“No.”

“Then why insist on it, when you know nothing of it?”

“It was the first I’d ever heard of it. But the moment I saw those words in the catalogue, I knew. It was fate.”

“F-fate?”

“Yes. Destiny. The catalogue listed countless martial arts, yet only the Fist of the Rending Cloud stood out. That’s why I fought for it. That’s why I will master it.”

Bakerd stared, momentarily dumbstruck. He blinked, opened his mouth, only for Yuri to press on before he could speak.

“So no matter how much you offer, I will never sell the Fist of the Rending Cloud.”

“…That’s troublesome. I must have it as well.”

The smoky aura began to stir again, curling like mist around Bakerd’s shoulders. This time, though, it didn’t crush the air as before, perhaps thanks to Elena and Haryeong’s earlier warning.

“Then what shall we do?” Yuri asked calmly.

“You need it, and I need it.”

“That’s why I offered more than you paid.”

“Well,” Yuri said with a faint smile, “standing around arguing like this feels awkward. Why don’t we sit down and continue?”

Bakerd let out a dry laugh.

“Sit? Hah. Are you inviting me to a café? Or should we drop ourselves right here on the floor?”

“Why not over there?” Yuri gestured back toward the auction hall.

“Plenty of good chairs, aren’t there? And comfortable ones too.”

“Go back to the auction hall?”

“Yes.”

Without waiting for an answer, Yuri turned and strolled back inside.

“What are you thinking?”

Elena hurried to catch up, her steps quick and uneven. Haryeong didn’t speak, but her furrowed brows said enough; she was just as baffled.

“It works out for you too,” Yuri said with a sidelong smile.

The cards were stacked in his favour.

As Haryeong had pointed out, this was Le Seyun, managed by the Ascard Family. Elena, his supposed guardian here, was a prospective disciple of Heavenly Thunder, Orca Dersia.

No matter how hot-blooded Bakerd was, brute force was off the table.

‘How best to use this? One and a half billion sel is no small sum… but the Fist of the Rending Cloud isn’t something I’ll ever give up.’

‘First priority: master it. After that… maybe there’s more I can squeeze from this.’

[Most of our VIP guests have been waiting for this moment.]

[The Le Seyun Auction House is proud to present a unique magic formula, directly submitted by the 7th-Circle freelance mage Harabel Ushia, the Crimson Wing. The formula for Scorching Blaze.]

[Before the item itself, allow us to introduce its creator, the famed Crimson Wing, Harabel Ushia.]

Applause broke out as a figure strode onto the stage.

True to her title, Crimson Wing, Harabel Ushia’s hair shimmered like fire, her scarlet eyes burning with the same intensity. She wore a leather jacket, hands shoved deep into her pockets, posture casual but defiant.

“The minimum bid is one billion,” she announced bluntly.

“I won’t sell it for less. The formula is worth that much. I don’t care who wins it, or what you do with it: learn it, study it, use it as kindling. Doesn’t matter.”

Her fiery gaze swept the VIPs.

“Maybe some of you want to analyse it, try to take me down. Go ahead. If you’ve got the guts. Just be ready to die for it.”

Yuri smirked.

He was a firm believer in judging books by their covers, and everything about Harabel matched her rough tongue. It would be stranger if she spoke politely.

“So cool…” Elena whispered, clutching her hands to her chest, utterly captivated as Harabel turned on her heel and left the stage without once pulling her hands from her pockets.

[That was the Crimson Wing herself. Now, let us begin the bidding, starting at one billion sel.]

The bidding for Scorching Blaze lit up the room at once.

Beside Yuri, Bakerd slumped into a seat, arms crossed, his eyes locked on Harabel with a sour glare.

“Since when is a billion sel pocket change?” he muttered.

He clicked his tongue, clearly unimpressed that a single formula, just a fragment, not even a complete magic style, was commanding such a price.

“So,” he growled, “what more is there to talk about?”

“As I said, I won’t sell you the Fist of the Rending Cloud for a higher price.”

“Get to the point.”

“Are you planning to train in the technique yourself, Sir Bakerd? Or do you simply need the manual?”

Bakerd’s eyes narrowed.

“Do I have to answer that?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it didn’t matter.”

A tense silence stretched between them.

Bakerd’s stare was sharp, but Yuri held it without flinching. After all, he’d endured Lorelia’s gaze before transmigration. His glower was nothing in comparison.

“…I will be learning it myself,” Bakerd admitted at last.

“So you don’t need the physical manual.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Then I’ll sell you a copy.”

“…What?”

[1.4 billion sel… 1.5 billion… we have 1.5 billion sel.]

The auctioneer’s voice rang out as the bidding climbed higher.

“The Fist of the Rending Cloud is one of a kind,” Yuri continued evenly.

“But since we both want to master it, this is the only solution. You’ll have a copy.”

“A copy? You’d… sell me a copy?” Bakerd blinked, incredulous.

“Yes. For the same price: 1.5 billion sel.”

“Wh-what sort of nonsense is that…?” Bakerd’s beard quivered as he stared at Yuri like he’d lost his mind.

“Are you saying you and I will both learn the same martial art?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Of course it is! You and I are neither master and disciple, nor martial brothers!”

“Who created the Fist of the Rending Cloud?”

“An ancient master. Yang Il-su of the Prism Fist.”

“And you aren’t his disciple, nor his martial brother, are you?”

Bakerd froze, struck dumb by his own logic. His jaw worked, his beard twitching as if each hair wanted to argue separately.

“It’s a martial art I bought with my own money,” Yuri pressed on calmly.

“What does it matter if I copy it and sell it?”

“But, for two of the same generation to share one art—”

“Right now, Scorching Blaze is being sold for 1.8 billion to strangers while its creator is alive and kicking.”

Bakerd faltered.

“…Well, that’s true, but—”

“I don’t care for outdated traditions. You desperately want the Fist of the Rending Cloud, and it belongs to me. I’ve offered a reasonable compromise. Take the copy and let me keep the original, or walk away empty-handed.”

Bakerd clenched his fists but said nothing.

He couldn’t use force here, not against someone with ties to the prospective disciple of Dersia’s Tower Master. And he wanted the technique badly.

“If you’re also learning it, then 1.5 billion is too high,” he tried again.

“Didn’t you name that price yourself, Sir Bakerd?”

“Yes, but that was under the assumption I’d be the sole heir to the technique this generation—”

“You never mentioned that condition earlier,” Yuri cut him off smoothly.

[2.3 billion! Harabel Ushia’s Scorching Blaze formula has been sold for 2.3 billion sel!]

The auction for the item that had started at one billion was over.

[A staggering 2.3 billion! The Scorching Blaze formula has set a new record for the highest-priced public auction item at Le Seyun!]

[Hoping to keep this fiery momentum going, we will now introduce our next item.]

[From the ill-fated 5th-Circle lightning-attribute mage who passed away three years ago, Flash Soul-chaser Jang-un, comes the Seven Thunders! A unique magic style comprised of seven formulas.]

Contrary to the auctioneer’s hopes, the energy in the room collapsed. Scorching Blaze had sold for an outrageous sum, and Jang-un’s reputation was nowhere near Harabel Ushia’s.

Besides, here in Rutlan stood the greatest lightning mage alive, Heavenly Thunder Orca, along with the Dersia Mage Tower, a bastion of lightning magic for generations.

“Still… regardless of original or copy, 1.5 billion sel is too much if you’re going to learn it as well.”

“You should have won the bid then, Sir Bakerd.”

“If it weren’t for you two…!”

Bakerd’s fist shook on his knee. He had not expected the competition to go that far. To think someone would fight him for the Fist of the Rending Cloud…!

Grinding his teeth, he turned a glare on Yuri.

[We will start the bidding for Flash Soul-chaser Jang-un’s Seven Thunders at 50 million sel.]

“If 1.5 billion feels too steep, then how about this?”

Yuri’s eyes swept across the tired room. The feverish atmosphere from Scorching Blaze had drained away; bids now trickled in, halting and sparse.

“You could win the bid for the Seven Thunders that’s up now and hand it to us. In exchange, you’ll teach me the basics of the Fist of the Rending Cloud yourself.”

“What…?”

“As you can see, I’ve never properly learnt martial arts. I bid on the Fist of the Rending Cloud because it felt like fate, but truthfully, I’m worried about how I’ll even begin.”

Elena, who had been silently wishing for the Seven Thunders, never imagined Yuri would twist the deal like this. She froze, lips parted in shock.

“If you don’t like this proposal either, then nothing more can be done. I can’t concede further. I’ll just learn the Fist of the Rending Cloud from Haryeong.”

Haryeong, suddenly dragged into the centre, didn’t flinch. She knew exactly what to say.

“Oh, brilliant.”

“…”

“I’m terribly excited. Thanks to you, Sir Yuri, I’ll get to study the Fist of the Rending Cloud manual for free. Whoopee.”

“Ahem.”

“Don’t worry, Sir Yuri. It’s awkward to boast, but my martial talent is exceptional. Teaching a beginner like you would be child’s play.” Haryeong’s voice was flat as stone, her face unchanging.

“An assassin… learning the Fist of the Rending Cloud…!”

“An assassin has two fists. Why can’t one learn a fist technique?”

“Why sell it to me for 1.5 billion, but let her learn it for free?!”

“Haryeong didn’t offer to buy it. Unlike you, Sir Bakerd, she and I are close.”

“May I shed a tear? I am so moved, Sir Yuri. I didn’t know we were close. Does this make us friends?” Haryeong’s monotone never wavered, her eyes dead serious.

[200 million sel, we now have 200 million sel.]

The magic was still valuable, and the price had already surpassed 200 million. Bakerd’s gaze flicked between the auction stage, Haryeong’s poker face, and Yuri’s infuriating smile.

“You want me… to teach you the basics? What exactly do you mean by basics?”

“Just checking if my stance is correct.”

“That’s all?”

“I’m not asking for secrets, only forms and posture. If that isn’t the basics, then what is?” Haryeong cut in smoothly.

“Sir Yuri, I can see Sir Bakerd hesitating. Please, give up on him. My knowledge of fist techniques may not run as deep, but my passion is unmatched. If you study under me, I’ll take you beyond the basics to the advanced and even the master level.”

‘Is she serious? Does she actually want to learn it?’ Yuri glanced at her unreadable expression.

“What nonsense! How could an assassin talk about mastering a fist technique?”

“Sir Bakerd, don’t be stingy. If you won’t buy, then step aside.”

[300 million sel, we have 300 million.]

Bakerd’s head snapped back towards the stage. His jaw clenched as he heard the rising bids.

“Once the Seven Thunders is sold, this deal is gone,” Yuri said casually.

“My terms won’t change, so take your time, if you dare.”

“Are you sure he can take his time? It looks like it’s about to be sold…” Elena’s voice trembled.

If this worked, she could finally get the Seven Thunders. She understood now what Yuri had meant earlier.

‘A good idea for you, too.’

He was right. Not only would Yuri secure the Fist of the Rending Cloud, but she might gain the Seven Thunders she had longed for. He had staged this for her.

The thought left her chest tight with gratitude. To think she would receive such a gift from him…

‘I haven’t received a gift since I was eight…’

Back then it had been a stuffed doll, her only birthday present from Yuri.

It was almost certainly stolen from a shop, but it was still the first and last gift she ever had. Every year after leaving the orphanage they exchanged letters on their birthdays, but never anything more.

The doll was ragged now from years of clutching it, but she still kept it in her room. Lost in the word ‘gift’, Elena’s fingers dug into her skirt.

Yuri said no more.

Bakerd could haggle, but Yuri had no intention of lowering his terms.

[350 million sel, we have 350 million. Any more bidders?]

The auctioneer’s voice pressed Bakerd into a corner. After a long breath, he finally slammed his hand down on the button at his seat.

“…400 million sel.”

Yuri grinned.

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